Grand Theft Auto: Luck of the Irish
by Seth Graystone
Summary: Packie is running from the past. He's abandoned Liberty City, and now he's involved in the criminal underworld of San Andreas. Can he stay alive long enough to forget the past, or is the Luck of the Irish finally up?
1. Prologue: The Great Escape

**Disclaimer: I do not own Grand Theft Auto IV, San Andreas, or Packie McReary.**

**Grand Theft Auto: Luck of the Irish**

**Prologue: The Great Escape**

So much had gone wrong. Packie wanted to forget it all. He had left behind everything that had led to this trouble, even the Comet he had bought. The only thing he carried on his back was the bad memories of Liberty City, a quarter of a million dollars, and the clothes he wore. He was leaving it behind. Liberty City was dead to him.

* * *

A yellow taxi stopped at Francis International Airport, and the taxi driver, a foreign man named Mohammed, turned.

"Hey, you pay now!" Mohammed ordered.

"Fine here, kiss my gun," Patrick McReary said as he stuck a silenced Python into Mohammed's mouth, shooting the cab driver.

Patrick, known as Packie on the streets, got out of the cab and pocketed his gun. He wore a green t-shirt over a white long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans. He carried a duffel bag on his back, and walked into the airport. He pulled out his Whiz wireless cell phone and called his friend and partner, Niko Bellic.

* * *

In an apartment in Bohan, Niko Bellic, a Serbian man with thin brown hair and a goatee. He was having sex with Carmen Ortiz when his phone rang.

"Hey, hold on a second," Niko said as he pushed Carmen away for a second, but she decided to just give him a blowjob instead.

"What is it, Packie?" Niko asked.

_"I just wanted to say goodbye. I decided to leave Liberty City. Especially after what happened to Frankie and Katie. Listen, look after yourself, and any of your friends. You and Derrick are the only family I have left in this rotten city._

Niko had never heard Packie so sincere before, even after all the times the two had gone drinking together in Steinway.

"You too Packie. Good luck with your new life," Niko said before cutting off his phone, turning his attention to Carmen once again.

* * *

Packie got into the plane, and when it flew off of the ground, he pulled out his phone again, calling his brother, Derrick McReary.

* * *

Derrick, a man with an aged appearance and graying hair due to the years of drug abuse, sat, snorting up cocaine when his phone rang. He answered it and wiped his nose on a tissue.

"Packie, my brother, what is it?" Derrick asked.

_"I'm leaving Liberty City. Look after Gordon, Gerry, and yourself most of all. Don't let Ma get hurt either. You're in charge of the Mob now. Goodbye Derrick. It's been nice knowing you."_

"Have fun in your new life at a new city. I hope things work better for you there than things have here," Derrick said before hanging up.

* * *

Gordon Sargent, a close friend and partner to Packie, much like Niko, was next. He sat at a couch in his apartment in Algonquin.

"What is it Packie?" Gordon asked.

_"I'm leaving this city. Everything I've tried here has gone wrong. You and Derrick are in charge of the Mob now. Good luck."_

"Yeah, same to you," Gordon said, hanging up.

* * *

Packie, now in his new life, was in the plane, flying to the east. He looked out at the land below him.

"So, a fresh start. I just hope things are different," Packie said to himself.

* * *

Packie left the airport and found himself in the Los Santos International Airport. He was in California now. Los Santos.

"So, a new beginning. Looks like it's time I screwed everything up here too," Packie said as he walked away from the airport.


	2. Packie's Revenge

The views expressed by Packie in this story are not necessarily the views of this writer.

**Grand Theft Auto: Luck of the Irish**

**Chapter One: Packie's Revenge  
**

Packie stepped out of the airport and looked for a taxicab. What he didn't see coming was the purple car that sped down the street, swaying from side-to-side and lane-to-lane, heading toward him.

"What the-" Packie shouted before rolling out of the way just as the car spun to a stop.

Four men got out of it, and when the doors open, a loud rap song blared out. Packie looked up as the man that sat in the passenger's seat, a thin African-American boy dressed in a purple t-shirt with blue jeans, converse shoes, and a combat jacket, stepped up.

"Hey, it's another cracker. Tell me, milk man, what's in the bag?" the man asked.

Packie pulled a Pistol out of his pocket and aimed it at the man, but all he got was a laugh.

"Oh, that toy of yours won't work on just any gangster here in Los Santos, cracker," the main said, pulling out a TEC-9 from his back pocket.

Before Packie could do anything, shots were fired, with a bullet grazing his left shoulder and one hitting him in his right leg. Packie fell to the ground, and the driver of the car ran up and kicked him in the ribs before taking his bag of money.

"See you later, milk man!" the assailant said, laughing as the gang members got back in the car, driving away as they left Packie to die.

The next thing Packie saw were two black boys running up to him. A large man ran up and, pulling out a TEC-9 of his own, shot at the gang's car, but missed. They then turned to Packie.

"What do we do with him, Sweet?" a skinny black boy said.

Packie blacked out.

* * *

When Packie came to, he found himself lying down on a bed. Looking around the room, he saw a poster for a movie, called "Grand Theft Auto IV". Personally, Packie thought it was a stupid name for a movie that completely made fun of real-life crime. Sitting around in the room was also a camera, a half-empty can of spray paint, a whole set of Madd Dogg CDs, and an empty Pissh bottle. To the bed's left sat a beat-up cupboard, and a dresser sat nearby as well.

"Where am I?' Packie asked himself as he rubbed his head before feeling a stinging pain. Then, he remembered.

He had been shot by a gang-banger. He looked at himself, spotting that his shirt was off, and he had a bandage on his left shoulder. A bloody stain on his right pants leg reminded him of being shot in the leg. Somebody had bandaged him up, and let them into their home. He looked at the cupboard and saw his shirts sitting on it, beside his Glock 22 Pistol. He got out of bed and slid on both shirts. He then picked up the pistol slid in a magazine, and crept down the hall, ready to shoot.

"You guys can't just keep bringing your gang-banger friends in here like that, Carl!"

Packie looked up as he heard a harsh, female voice echo down the hall ways. He crept near the staircase and saw three black people sitting down below. One was a tall, skinny boy, sitting down in a worn-out recliner. He wore a wife-beater shirt, a pair of plain blue jeans, and black converse shoes. he was obviously bored and tired of hearing the girl complain.

The other guy was the same large man who shot at the gang's car, he was lying down on a couch, almost asleep. He wore a green t-shirt, black cargo pants, and a pair of green-and-white shoes. A green hat on his head sat kind of crooked.

The last person, the girl speaking, was a tall and skinny black girl. She wore a strapless green top that showed her curves, as well as a pair of black shorts. Packie couldn't help but stare at her for a second before going back into high alert.

"He ain't our friend, Kendl. The guy just got shot by the Ballas, and we helped him," Carl, the skinny boy, said. "Besides, anyone the Ballas want dead can't be too bad.

_"The Ballas? They must be the ones who shot me? Then who are they?" _Packie thought.

"Not all that bad? They wanted Lance and Melvin dead too, but they were trash!" Kendl, the girl, said.

Packie decided to make his move then. He rolled down the stairs and, when he landed, pointed his gun at the large man.

"Oh, look what deadbeat decided to finally wake up!" Kendl grumbled before walking away.

"You're up? Man, I thought he'd be down for another few days," the large man said, getting up.

"Don't move a muscle! Now, who are you? Where am I?" Packie asked.

"You must be new here," the large man said.

"No shit, Sweet, why else would he be at the airport!" Carl said.

"Don't start with me, CJ!" Sweet, also known as Sean Johnson, said. "And you're in Ganton, by the way. Ganton, Los Santos."

"Who're the Ballas?" Packie asked.

"They're some gang who've been trying to take over our turf for years. We had control over everything a few years ago, but..." Carl Johnson, also known by the nickname CJ, said.

"But what?'

"Some stuff happened. We won't go into details. Anyway, we're thinking, we've both got reasons to go after the Ballas. So, are you in, or are you out?" Sweet asked.

"If it means I can get my money back," Packie said,"Then I'm in."

* * *

Packie, Sweet, and CJ left the Johnson House. CJ was packing a Desert Eagle, Micro-SMG, and a Sawn-Off Shotgun. Sweet was packing his TEC-9 and an AK-47. Packie still held onto his Glock 22 Pistol and a Micro-SMG. The trio of criminals went into the Johnson House's garage, where a gray Greenwood car sat. Sweet took the keys and threw them to Packie.

"You drive. And we're headin' out to the Ten Green Bottles Bar on Grove Street," he said before getting in the passenger's seat, whiel Carl slid into the backseat. Packie simply nodded and got behind the wheel.

"Hey, white-boy, what's yo' name anyway?" CJ asked.

"Patrick McReary. You guys can call me Packie, though," he said as they left the Ganton cul-de-sac.

"Fine then, Packie, what made you come to Los Santos anyway?" CJ asked.

Packie hesitated for a second before answering. "I needed a fresh start."

"Were you from?" Sweet asked.

"Liberty City," Packie said.

"Oh, you got a Yankee in your car, Sweet," CJ said. "Speaking of this car, when are you gonna trade this clunker in and get a real car?"

"At least I've got a car. You were dumb enough to lose yours in a race," Sweet said.

"That fool cheated and everyone knew it," Carl said.

"It ain't cheatin' when he's got 2 grand put under the hood of a Banshee and going against that worn-out Oracle you had, Carl. You was askin' for it," Sweet said.

"Can you two do me a favor and just shut up already? I'm trying to think," Packie said.

"Well, I'm sorry if we were getting on your nerves, Mr. Yankee," CJ said.

"Lay off him, CJ," Sweet said.

CJ grumbled something about being bossed around a lot and sunk down in his seat, while Packie turned the radio to K-DST, The Dust. Tommy Smith was busy arguing with a fan of Radio X.

_"The DJs here are just as bad as in Liberty City. All they do is talk, and talk, and talk..." _Packie griped in his head.

The Radio X fan, apparently bored, hung up, and Tommy quickly put on "Free Bird" by Lynyrd Skynyrd. Halfway through the song, Packie found the Ten Green Bottles Bar. He parked out front, and turned to Sweet and CJ.

"Now, this bar's always been Grove Street turf, but some Ballas have shown up everyday causin' trouble for our boys here. We gonna teach 'em a lesson," Sweet said.

"Let's crack some skulls," Packie said as the trio got out of the car and entered the bar.

* * *

Packie, CJ, and Sweet looked around, spotting the usual partying in a bar, drunks staggering about, men flirting with loose women, and pool sharks tricking unsuspecting college kids out of their money. Nobody dressed like a member of the Ballas had arrived yet, so the trio split up. CJ went over to the pool table to wait it out, while Sweet went over to an empty chair near the door. Packie took a seat at the bar, and waited.

"Well, are you here alone, handsome?"

Packie looked up, and there stood a beautiful girl that looked as if she had just gotten out of a college. She had tanned skin, and short black hair. She wore a tight, short black dress.

"No, I came with some friends, but, uh, they left. Want me to buy you a drink?" Packie asked.

"Sure," the girl said as Packie ordered two beers.

"So, what's your name?" Packie asked.

"Rachel Lee," she said.

"I'm Patrick McReary," Packie said.

After another round of drinks, Rachel and Packie both got up, Packie stumbling a bit while Rachel seemed a bit groggy at best.

"I think I might've drunk too much," Packie said, remembering he needed to be alert for some reason, he just couldn't remember what.

"Come with me," Rachel said, walking away as Packie followed her.

Packie soon found himself in a private back room, most likely a closet, but he couldn't tell; still too drunk. Rachel pulled up her dress and son, the two were going at it in a supply closet.

* * *

CJ, having conned a whole group of men out of $123 in pool games, walked up to Sweet.

"Where's Yankee?" CJ asked.

"He went off with some girl. He better hope the Ballas don't show up," Sweet said,"Or we're screwed,"

Then, the bar's door open, and in stepped four Ballas. Each was dressed in an undershirt, purple shorts, a purple doo-rag, and converses.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here, fellas? Some Grove Street punks a bit too far from home," one said.

The one that spoke drew a TEC-9, two others drew Pump Shotguns, and the last revealed an SMG.

"Get some cover, CJ!" Sweet said as both jumped out of the way of the shots fired at them.

Sweet and CJ both jumped behind the bar, barely dodging bullets. The unsuspecting bartender was shot in the chest and fell over, dead. Three nearby Grove Street members pulled out Desert Eagles and started firing but they missed each time. The SMG-holding one shot at one of the Grove Street members relentlessly, causing him to fall over, blood pouring from a wound in his side.

"Carlos! You done it now, boy!" CJ said, jumping out of cover as he fired at the one who killed 'Carlos'. Using his Micro-Smg, he shot the killer twice in the head, three times in the chest, and once in the balls.

When the man fell over dead, one Shotgun-wielding Balla ran up, but was shot in the leg by Sweet before getting shot in the head. Despite the quick kill, the other two, hiding behind an overturned table, shot relentlessly at the two other Grove members, only stopping when both were lying in pools of their own blood.

"Where's that Yankee?" CJ snapped as a bullet missed his head by an inch, shattering a bottle of beer behind him.

* * *

Packie, sobering up, had given Rachel his phone number, and vice-versa. He exited the back area, only to see pandemonium out front. The patrons had all left, and three Grove Street members were lying on the floor dead, as were two Ballas members. Packie drew his Pistol and aimed at the head of the member holding the Pump Shotgun. He fired a single bullet hat pierced into the man's head, killing him instantly.

"I ain't done yet, ya hear me?" the last member said as he turned and ran out the front door. Packie gave chase.

Packie saw the man sliding into the driver's seat of a Voodoo before speeding away. Packie slid into Sweet's Greenwood and sped after him, while Sweet and CJ left the building.

"My car! Get back here with my car!" Sweet shouted.

CJ chuckled until he heard the sound of police sirens. Both Johnson brothers looked at each other and ran down an alleyway nearby, just as three cop cars arrived at the scene.

* * *

Packie was close on the gang-banger's tail. Packie sped up and rammed the back of the Voodoo, causing the man to jerk as he spun out of control for a second. Soon, the man regained control and sharply turned past a Gym. Packie followed suit, narrowly missing a crash, and still chased him. Packie stuck his hand out the window and fired at the Voodoo with his pistol. Five shots hit the back left tire before it burst.

"My car! You gonna pay for that," the gang-banger said as he tried to do another sharp turn, only to hit a dumpster because of the blown-out tire.

"There's more where that came from, friend!" Packie shouted as he shot at the car again, this time hitting the trunk and the back right tire. The car slowed down a bit, giving Packie enough time to shoot its back tire again, making it go out.

With only two tires left, the Voodoo swerved uncontrollably before spinning out and wrecking into the side of a 24 Hour Motel. The chase had taken them all the way to Idlewood. The gang-banger got out and ran inside, climbing up a staircase before hiding in a room. Packie stopped the car and ran after him, still ready to shoot he looked into the room, and saw an opened window, as well as a fire escape up to the roof.

"How did I get myself into this mess?" Packie asked himself as he prepared to end it.

* * *

The police officers searched the alleyways with flashlights and German Shepherds. One of the dogs went up to a dumpster and started barking wildly.

"What's gotten into him?" a fat, black cop asked.

"Probably smells a rotten steak or something. Anyway, let's go get some donuts. Nobody's out here and I'm hungry," a skinny white man said as they left. Soon, the cop cars drove away, and Sweet and CJ both climbed from the dumpster.

"I can't believe that worked," CJ said, brushing the trash off of him.

"Now we just have to wait for the Yankee," Sweet said.

* * *

The Ballas member waited on the roof, trying to find a way down. He finally saw a dumpster beneath him. Right when he prepared to jump, Packie reached the roof.

"Stop right there!" he shouted, and the man froze. He motioned to grab his gun, but then realized he had left it in his car.

The man turned around, and Packie approached him, a Pistol aimed at the gangster's chest.

"Make one move and I'll make you look like Swiss Cheese," Packie said.

"Y-Yes sir," the man said.

"Now, what's the name of the man who ripped me off? The one who stole my money?" Packie asked.

"His name is Jerome Andrews," the gangster said.

"Good. Where is he now?" Packie asked.

"H-He left for Vinewood the other day. Right after ripping you off, actually. But, I don't know where he is in Vinewood. Only one person knows," the gangster said nervously.

"Tell me who does or you'll be in a body-bag," Packie demanded, pressing the Pistol to the man's chest.

"His girlfriend, Veronica Ramirez. She would know where he is. She said something about moving with him earlier," the frightened man said.

"Thank you," Packie said.

"Are you gonna kill me? Please don't kill me! I'll disappear, I'll be a ghost! I won't do anything to you or the Grove Street Families ever again! You want money? I'll pay you? My car? Take it! Just please, oh please, don't kill me," the man whined, begging as Packie thought it over.

One one hand, the man had told him everything he needed to know, and he hadn't done anything to Packie _directly_.

But on the other hand, he was working for the man who ripped Packie off. And he had tried to kill Sweet and CJ. He deserved to die.

Packie finally decided. He pointed the gun at the man's leg and fired. The bullet hit the metal roof beneath the man, missing on purpose.

"You have five seconds to get out of here before I put a cap in you," Packie said emotionlessly.

"Thank you!" the man said as he jumped into the dumpster below, landing on a pile of garbage bags. Soon, he climbed out and made a break for it, running into the horizon.

"I hope I don't live to regret that," Packie said as he turned and left.

* * *

Packie went back to the bar with the Greenwood. Sweet and CJ were waiting outside and both got in the car.

"Next time, we go with you," Sweet said. "My car never leaves my sight. Understand, Yankee?"

"Yeah," Packie said, not really listening.

"Did you get rid of that fool?" CJ asked.

Packie looked up. "Yeah, he's not a problem anymore."

Packie drove quickly and silently to the Johnson House. He parked the Greenwood in the garage and all three got out.

"I'll see you boys tomorrow. And Packie, for a Yankee, you're cool," Sweet said.

"Thanks, I think," Packie said as Sweet left for his actual house, which was right next door.

Packie and Carl entered the Johnson House, where they noticed that Kendl was gone.

"Where's your sister?" Packie asked CJ.

"Oh, she don't live here no more. She lives with her boyfriend, Cesar, now," CJ explained before heading upstairs to his room.

Packie looked at the couch and around the small house and decided to get some sleep. Lying down on the couch, he looked up at the ceiling.

_"Alright, tomorrow, I'll find Veronica Ramirez. She's better be ready," _Packie thought as he finally fell asleep, tired out by the day's events.


	3. Nightmare on Grove Street

This chapter contains a lot of jokes referencing past or modern-day political figures. Thank you for your review and kind words, Afro Spirit. And if you like what I've put up so far, I can't wait until I actually get to introduce the next few characters and plot twists.

**Chapter 002: Nightmare on Grove Street  
**

Packie rose from the couch groggily and looked around, forgetting where he was. Then, everything came back to him. Jerome robbing him, the bar incident, and the name of the girl he had to hunt down: Veronica Ramirez. With a determined glare, Packie rose from the couch and looked around.

"Hey, CJ! You up yet?" Packie shouted up the stairs.

No answer came back down, so Packie assumed CJ had left earlier. The Irishman walked out the front door and looked at Ganton. Plenty of pimps, thugs, and hookers inhabited the area. Packie thought about what he could do, but pushed the idea aside. He had to find Veronica Ramirez, and the only person who might know would be Sweet. Packie walked up to Sweet's house, knocking on the door. When it opened, CJ was on the other side, motioning for Packie to follow him.

* * *

Packie and CJ walked down the hallway into the living room, where Sweet and a variety of thugs that remained loyal to Grove Street sat, spread out among the old green couch or the two recliners. CJ took the empty seat next to his brother, while Packie simply stood, his arms crossed.

"This is the Yankee?" one thug, bald-headed and muscular, asked.

"Yeah, that's him. Patrick McReary," Sweet said.

"Call me Packie," the Irishman said to the thugs.

"He don't look like a Yankee to me," a second thug, with long dreadlocks and a joint, said.

"Tell me Yankee, are the Liberty City Swingers any good?" a third thug, notable for the blood-soaked bandanna he wore on his head, asked.

"You mean the team or the ladies?" Packie asked, causing the thugs to laugh. "Because over there, they all suck."

"Well, isn't that the point?" the second thug asked.

"Alright, enough joking around. This is serious," CJ said.

"The Ballas are making a comeback, and the Yankee here was robbed by their leader, Jerome. We need to find out where he is, and who might know where he is," Sweet said.

"I know, and I have a name to go with it," Packie said,"Veronica Ramirez is the girl we're after. From what I was told by a thug I interrogated the other night, she can take us to him."

"Veronica Ramirez? Man, I could throw a burrito out that window and hit 50 people named Veronica Ramirez," the second thug said again, causing Packie to glare at him.

"Yeah, but she would live in the Ballas territory, so that should narrow it down," Packie said.

"To about a fourth of Los Santos," the second thug said.

"How many gangs are in this place, anyway?" Packie asked.

"There's the Vagos," the first thug said in disgust.

"The Grove Street Families, that being us, run our business here," the third said.

"There's the Ballas of course," the second said.

"And then there's the Aztecas," CJ said,"Run by Kendl's boy Cesar. Ever since they got together, the Aztecas and Grove have watched each other's backs."

"Well, where are the Ballas main territory now?" Packie asked.

"Out by Glen Park," Sweet said.

"Then we know where we have to go," Packie said, causing all members of the group to get up and leave the house.

* * *

Packie, CJ, Sweet, and the three thugs left the house. Sitting outside was Sweet's plain Greenwood and a dark red Voodoo. Sweet, CJ, Packie, and Thug #2 got in the Greenwood, while the other two thugs got in the Voodoo. This time, Sweet slid behind the wheel, Packie sitting beside him, and the thug sitting with CJ in the back. The cars set out.

"Alright, boys, we going to do a drive-by. I'll focus on driving, the rest of you focus on firing. When everyone out front is dead, we move in, got it?" Sweet asked. All nodded in agreement.

"Now, the target is Veronica Rodriguez. If you find anyone with that name, take 'em prisoner," Sweet ordered before he turned on the radio to WCTR.

"Why'd you put on that stupid talk station, man? Put it on K-JAH West," the thug said.

"If we gonna keep up with thje Ballas and Vagos we have to pay attention more. Listen to news, read newspapers, watch stuff on TV other than _America's Next Top Hooker_!" Sweet said.

"Alright, amn, forget I said anything," the thug said, sinking back into his chair.

_"In recent news, a shoot-out at the Ten Green Bottles Bar has rights activists up in arms. Many conservatives are blaming it on booze and lichor, and now State Governor candidate Rodney Wartsenberger has proposed a ban of alcohol in San Andreas," Lianne Forget said over the radio._

_"We must ban alcohol, because if this keeps going on, what will happen to the children? They'll get drunk and kill the important people like me! This recent incident is an outrage, and I will not rest until the state of San Andreas bans alcohol forever!" Rodney Wartsenberger's recording, from a rally last night, said._

"The people in this state sure can throw a rally fast," Packie said, talking over the rest of the radio's unimportant reports.

"Even if that fool does ban our drinks, we still gonna drink it anyway. He's dumber than he looks," CJ said.

"That's just our fine country's political system at work. Look what they did a while ago, they put that new President in charge after President Lawton died of..." Packie said,"What was it again?"

"He got AIDS from that Rice lady, remember?" the thug reminded him,

"Oh yeah. President Aden isn't doing much of a better job with our country," Packie said.

"We're here," Sweet said as they pulled into Glen Park, turning off the radio.

* * *

Inside of Glen Park, a beautiful young woman looked around. She had long black hair, and a somewhat dark complexion. She wore a black spaghetti-strapped top, a mini-skirt, and high-heels, as well as a pair of sunglasses to cover her eyes.

"Where are they with the car?" she asked as she looked around impatiently.

* * *

When Sweet and the other prepared for the drive-by, they saw a black Romero pull up. Two men got out of it, both dressed in black suits, with fedoras and shades. One was a tall and skinny white boy, while the other was a large black boy.

"Why are you here?" the white man asked.

"Why are you here?" Packie asked, getting out of the car.

The black boy pulled out a gun, but before he could do anything, the thug in the car revealed a Silenced Pistol and fired a single bullet, piercing the man's jaw. The other one prepared to run, but three bullets into his back did him in.

"Good, these guys must work for the Ballas. Hey, Yankee, me and you will take their place and find Ramirez. The others will go back home and set stuff up. Be ready if to be back-up in case we need it," Sweet said.

"Right," they all said as they left Packie and Sweet to do their job.

Sweet slid on the black man's suit and shades. While it looked a bit tight, Sweet was able to get it on completely. Packie, however, had more issues. The man he had stolen his clothes from was tall than him. Sweet took a knife and cut part of Packie's pants off, leaving them looking normal.

"Alright, let's go," Sweet said as he and Packie got in the Romero, driving into Glen Park.

* * *

Veronica Ramirez saw the Romero coming, finally, and got up, walking to the car. The white man, Packie McReary, unbeknown to her, got out and opened the back door for her.

"Ms. Ramirez?" he asked, but something seemed off. She remembered him having an Australian accent when she last talked to him. Must have been a new guy.

Veronica slid into the backseat and Packie closed the door, getting back in his position up front.

"Take me to the Burger Shot near that run-down place called Ganton. I have a business meeting there," Veronica ordered.

The black man, Sweet, drove on.

"Put the radio to Playback FM," she ordered as Packie changed the radio station, causing the sound of _Rebel Without a Pause_ by Public Enemy to started playing.

The car remained silent, except for the sound of hip-hop songs, until they reached Burger Shot.

"Drop me off here," she said as they neared it, but the driver pushed down on the gas, causing them to speed by it.

They made a sharp turn, causing Veronica to jerk in her seat.

"What are you doing? Let me out!" she snapped.

"We ain't letting you go just yet, little girl," Packie said as he took off his hat and shades.

"What do you want?" she asked, frightened.

"Where is Jerome Andrews? And I want exact locations, or I'll cut your fingers off and send them to your folks in a matchbox," Packie said.

"I won't tell you anything! You can't make me!" Veronica screamed as she tried to open the door, but it was locked.

"We said you ain't goin' nowhere!" Sweet said.

Then she realized. She was actually being kidnapped by a pair of thugs. She pulled out her cell phone, but the black man snatched it from her hands, rolled down his window, and threw it on the street.

"Who ya gonna call now?" Sweet asked.

"I'll give you anything you want, just don't hurt me!" she pleaded.

"Where is Jerome?" Packie snapped.

"I don't know! He left Los Santos and didn't tell me where!" Veronica answered.

"We gonna have to take her in for some questioning," Sweet said as they turned into Ganton. They parked the Romero near Sweet's house and both boys got out and, when they opened the car door, grabbed Veronica up forcefully, practically dragging her into the house.

* * *

Sweet and Packie dragged into the basement below, and set her down on a chair. Packie pulled a Pistol out.

He then turned to Sweet and handed it to him. "I'll tie her up. If she tries anything, shoot her in the leg."

Packie walked over to Veronica and grabbed a rope from the floor. Soon, he began tying her to the chair. In a matter of moments, her arms and legs were tied to the chair.

"Now, will you tell us where your boyfriend is?" Packie asked.

"He's not my boyfriend, he's my pimp," she argued.

Packie shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Where is he?"

"I don't know!" Veronica screamed at him, but before Packie could continue, a voice interrupted them.

"Yo, Sweet, we got some issues!" It was CJ.

"Sweet, you handle the interrogation, I'll talk with your brother," Packie said as he ran upstairs.

* * *

When Packie left the basement, he found CJ, Thug #2, and Thug #3 sitting around. The thugs both looked sad, but Packie couldn't tell why.

"What happened?" Packie asked.

"The Glen Park boys figured out we took their girl. They're on their way here, right now," CJ said.

"Why are they so sad?" Packie asked.

"Those monsters killed my brother!" Thug #2 said,"I'm gonna kill 'em!"

"Calm down, T. We can handle this. Kill them before they can get in the house, or we're screwed," CJ said.

* * *

The group of hired guns left the house, each packing. Packie pulled out a SMG he had taken from inside the Romero and looked at the alleyway near CJ's House. He fired five bullets out and nailed a Balla straight in the chest. The man fell over dead, but five others stormed into Ganton. Grove members from around the entire cul-de-sac jumped up and started firing.

CJ pulled out his SMG and placed a bullet in one Balla's skull. Thug #2 jumped out of the house firing like a madman with two SMGs, knocking down wave after wave of the Ballas. However, in one split instant, a bullet hit the man's right arm, causing him to drop a gun. He started firing at the man who shot him, but his other hand was shot. He was defenseless.

"No!" Packie shouted as he saw three ballas with AK-47s fire on the thug, whom fell ober dead instantly.

"Don't worry about him! We gotta protect Sweet!" CJ said as he got out from his cover and fired at the Ballas, killing one that had killed Thug #2.

Packie decided he was right and jumped up firing with both his Pistol and SMG at the same time, killing two others, but it blew Packie back a little bit. He would have to get used to dual-wielding guns.

CJ was picking off the Ballas easily. Most of the ones left alive were starting to flee, and the ones dumb enough to keep going were injured. In a matter of seconds, CJ and Packie had picked off or scared away all but one. He was wearing Kevlar body armor, and, somehow, held a Minigun that he fired with ease.

"How do we kill him?" Packie asked.

"Fire at the head!" CJ shouted, looking up long enough to get a good aim before firing the last bullet in his SMG.

However, the bullet hit the man's chest instead, the impact getting absorbed by the Kevlar. CJ cursed under his breath and threw his gun to the ground. All he had left was a Sawn-Off Shotgun, and it only worked at point-blank. Packie checked his guns. He was on the last twelve bullets from his SMG, and had no more magazines. His Pistol still had plenty of ammo, but from that far-away it was practically useless.

Packie looked up from behind the wooden fence he used for cover and ducked in just enough time to dodge a bullet that smashed into the side of a trashcan. He had a good idea of where the man was now. He looked up again, and then saw the large man stomping towards CJ. Packie decided to take his chance and aimed, waiting for the right moment. When the man got within five steps of CJ, Packie fired every last bullet from his SMG, and each one of them hit the man in the head.

When the man fell to the ground in a pool of his own blood, his Minigun fell to the ground with a clatter. Cj came out of hiding and swiped the man's wallet, throwing it to Packie.

"Take his cash, you need it more than I do," CJ said,"We need to head back inside."

"Where's the other guy?" Packie asked.

"I don't know. He might've gotten killed or they might've took him. Doesn't matter," CJ said before walking back inside.

Packie followed CJ into the house.

* * *

When they arrived in the basement, they found Veronica with a bruise on her cheek from where Sweet had interrogated her. However, he had a slip of paper filled with information.

"This is where your boy Jerome lives. Turns out he lives in San Fierro," Sweet said.

_"So that rat I let go lied to me? So what, he's out of my hair and he lead me to Veronica," _Packie thought as he took the paper.

"Now, we need to think of what to do with her," Packie said, turning to Veronica.

"I have an idea," CJ said as he took Packie's Pistol, aiming it at her.

"No, if we kill too many people, we might bring too much attention," Packie said, being the voice of reason for once in his life. He cast that thought aside. It reminded him of what he had left behind. Why he had left it behind.

"Then what do we do with her?" CJ asked.

Packie thought it over, and came to a conclusion. "Let her go. If that gang learns she talked, they'll kill her. She won't have anywhere to go, and we won't have her blood on our hands."

CJ and Sweet agreed and untied her. She made a mad dash for the door and left. They all decided it was time to turn in, so they left to go to bed. While outside, Packie and CJ collected guns from the dead men. They ended up having Packie's Pistol, an AK-47, a pair of Desert Eagles, and a Pump Shotgun. With these weapons in hand, the two both went to sleep, Packie thinking about Veronica.

_"Should I really have let her go like that? Normally I would've killed her on the spot just like anyone else, but..." _Packie thought as he looked at the ceiling_,"But something was different this time. Why is it any different? Come on, get a grip, Packie. It's just a girl."_

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a crashing noise. Packie reached under his pillow and clutched the Pistol he kept beneath it. The front door opened and he rolled over onto his stomach, looking at the intruders from the corner of his eye.

"Dis is the place. Now, just kill dem in dey sleep, and I and I can leave," a Jamaican man with a thick accent said.

"Speak English, you retard. This is America, not Babylon," a coarse-voiced American said.

"I ain't from no Babylon, I is from Jamaica, man! Repeat after me, Jamaica Ja-mai-ca! J-A-M-A-I-C-A!" the Jamaican man said.

Packie saw both men turn their backs and made his move. He jumped from the bed and fired three bullets at each man. By the time they turned around, it was too late. One bullet grazed the American man's neck, causing blood to spew out as the other two slammed into his chest, knocking him to the floor. The Jamaican man tried to avoid the bullets, but was shot twice in the left arm and once in the leg. As he struggled to move, Packie ran up and pulled the man up by what he assumed to be a shirt collar and placed his Pistol to the man's mouth.

"Tell me who sent you, or pigeons will be eating your brains off the concrete," Packie said.

"I and I was sent by de Ballas, man. A badman named Jerome Andrews," the Jamaican said. "Dat's all I know, I promise!"

"Thanks, but I'm not letting you leave here with your life," Packie said, causing the man to gasp in horror before sticking the gun in his mouth, pulling the trigger as a bullet pierced the man's head.

Then, a light turned on and Packie saw CJ walking down the stairs.

"What's goin' down out here man? A train wreck?" CJ asked before he saw the bodies. Packie finally got a good look at the bodies, too.

The American was dressed from head-to-toe in biker leather. A symbol on his jacket identified him as an Angel of Death. He had no hair, but a long, dirty, and shaggy beard. The Jamaican had long dreads, and wore a green vest over a black shirt with faded jeans. A pair of swirly sunglasses covered his eyes, and in his pocket was a packet of cigarettes.

"We need to get rid of the bodies, quick. Someone's bound to have called the cops," Packie said.

"A'ight, we need to go bury them next door. Come on, follow me," CJ said as he dragged the American man outside. Packie took the Jamaican and followed.

* * *

In a matter of moments, both hitmen were buried deep underground in the backyard of the house that once belonged to Ryder. Packie and CJ both entered the Johnson House, weirded out by what had happened.

"Jerome sent them? Man, he's serious about icing us," CJ said.

"We need to get out of the neighborhood, lay low for a while," Packie said.

"Yeah, but not yet. We gonna do as much damage as we can to the Ballas while we're here," CJ said,"And tomorrow, we're going to pay Cesar and Kendl a special visit."

"Why? What's so important about Cesar?" Packie asked.

"Because with help from the Aztecas, his gang, we can take down the Ballas easy," CJ said,"Now we need to get some sleep. Won't want you sleeping behind the wheel."

CJ left to his room, laughing a little bit, while Packie looked at him oddly.

_"Behind the wheel? What's that madman got planned for me? Great, first I get robbed, I end up letting some girl I don't even know leave with her life, and now some crazy black guy isn't even giving me a straight answer. God, I need some coke," _Packie thought to himself before falling asleep.

* * *

Alright, if all goes as planned with my story, we will see both the departure and introduction of a major character from San Andreas. And some different twists to the story as well. Anyway, I'm not saying anymore about the next chapter until its release, which will hopefully be late today or mid-tomorrow.


	4. To Live and Die in Los Santos

As I promised: Chapter 3! A major character from San Andreas will die, so be warned!

**Chapter 003: To Live and Die in Los Santos**

Packie rose from the couch and grabbed his Pistol. He knew CJ and Sweet would have some plan cooked up, so he took his Pistol, an SMG he found in the closet, and the two Desert Eagles he took from the Ballas yesterday. Armed and dangerous, he left the house and went next door. He knocked on the door and Sweet answered it.

"Good, you're here. Come on in," Sweet said as Packie followed him into the living room.

Packie saw that CJ was already there, sprawled out on the couch. Packie took a seat in a comforter, while Sweet took the other.

"The only way to really get to Cesar is by beating him in a race. The Aztecas are all about showing off how badly they 'pimped' their ride. Today, they're hosting a race out in their turf, El Corona. Yankee here is going to drive in it for us," Sweet said.

"He gonna need a bouncin' lowrider before they let him in," CJ said.

"Right. Go to the Loco Low shop over on Willowfield, and have them mod a Blade with hydraulics for you. The car's sitting out front," Sweet said.

"We'll go ahead and meet Cesar at El Corona while you do that. You gotta be there before 12:00, though, or they'll start without you," CJ said.

"Alright, then, I'll head out now," Packie said as he left.

* * *

When he exited the house, he found a black lowrider, a Blade, waiting for him beside Sweet's Greenwood. Even though Packie hated the idea of driving a lowrider, he slid inside of it and drove away from the cul-de-sac. As he went, he thought about recent events and even listened to K-DST for a while, listening as an argument broke out between Tommy and a fan of Radio X (again).

"Does this guy do anything other than try to fuckin' argue?" Packie asked he changed it to Radio X, listening as _Welcome to the Jungle _by the famous band Guns N' Roses played. Despite what Tommy said, Radio X's music was pretty good, in Packie's opinion.

When the song wrapped up, Packie parked in the "Loco Low Co." garage. A greasy mechanic stepped up to him as he got out of the Blade.

"What do you want done?" the mechanic asked.

"Just fit her with some hydraulics," Packie said.

"Gotcha," the mechanic said as he went to work, while Packie checked the time on his cell phone.

_"11:00. That means I have an hour until the race starts," _Packie thought to himself as he took a seat in an uncomfortable chair nearby, starting to drift asleep...

* * *

"Hey, ese, where's your boy?"

CJ and Sweet looked around as Cesar Vialpando asked that question. Cesar, sitting on the hood of a modded Voodoo, was a tall and skinny Mexican boy, dressed in the same thing as CJ: wife-beater shirt and jeans.

"He's on his way," Sweet said.

"He better be. My boys here, they getting restless," Cesar said.

_"Where is that Yankee?" _Both CJ and Sweet thought.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Packie woke up. He checked the time on his phone and his eyes grew as big as golf balls when he saw it. _11:40._

"Hey! Grease monkey!" Packie shouted as the mechanic walked toward him.

"Your car's finished," the mechanic said simply.

"Why didn't you wake me up when it was?" Packie asked.

"I didn't want to bug you," the mechanic said. "Now that'll be $500."

Packie picked up a hammer from a table nearby and slammed it into the mechanic's face, causing blood to poor down it.

"Consider that your payment," Packie said as he got in the Blade and drove away, speeding down the rood.

* * *

"Yo, we got company, Cesar!" an Azteca said.

Everyone looked as a black Blade drove up. The door opened, and Packie stepped out, with exactly a minute to spare.

"So, this is your boy, huh?" Cesar asked, looking Packie over. "Alright, he's in. But on one condition. We race for slips, and we make it interesting. Everyone in the race must put in $200 dollars."

The other four racers pulled out their wallets and handed the money to Cesar as if it were nothing. However, Packie only had $45 left from what little he had to begin with. However, Sweet and CJ put in $100 each.

"You owe us one," CJ said as he, Sweet, and the non-racers took their spots on the side-lines.

All racers prepared, lining up and revving their engines. Six cars, each outfitted with mods, were lined up. Kendl walked into a space between the middle cars, holding a bra. She threw it into the air and, when it landed, all the cars went speeding by.

* * *

Cesar led the pack of racers. Behind him were two Aztecas, then Packie, and two more Aztecas were trailing behind. Packie had caught up to the third place driver, but whenever he tried to pass them, they blocked his way. Packie floored it on the gas and slammed into the car, causing it to swerve as Packie went around it.

"Pendejo!" the driver shouted as he swerved out of control, hitting a building.

"One down, four to go!" Packie said as he kept going.

* * *

Back in last place, the driver struggled to keep up. Deciding it was time, he used his NOS, speeding by the next guy and causing him so much shock he spun out, effectively eliminating him as the slowest racer sped into the distance.

* * *

Meanwhile, Packie was starting to catch up to the second place driver, when he saw the man behind him starting to speed by. However, the NOS was too much, causing his car to shake violently. The Azteca, determined to win, didn't let off, speeding recklessly toward Packie. The Irishman got an idea. just before the car crashed into him, Packie moved to the other lane, causing the two Aztecas to crash into each other.

"And then there were two," Packie said as he slammed down on the gas.

* * *

Nearing the home stretch next to his house in El Corona, Cesar smiled. He had smoked all of them. Not only would he have some new cars to sale, but he would be $1200 richer. However, the smile faded when he saw Packie closing the distance between them.

"For a white boy, he's pretty good," Cesar said.

Soon, Packie caught up with Cesar. The two were neck and neck, going at full speed. Cesar and Packie pushed their cars to the limits when they saw a turn come up ahead. Packie slowed down in time to make the turn, barely scraping the wall, but Cesar wasn't so lucky. He slammed straight into the wall. Packie kept going and crossed the finish line.

"Yeah! Grove Street for the win," CJ declared as the other racers, minus Cesar, walked up. Each handed cash to Carl.

"Where's Cesar?" Kendl asked.

"He was right behind me," Packie said before they saw Cesar, in his damaged car, pull up.

Cesar got out of the car and walked up to Packie. "Good race, man."

"Thanks, same to you," Packie said as Cesar handed them $200.

However, the good will between the two racers was interrupted as numerous purple Voodoos appeared. Ballas exited each one and started firing. Numerous Aztecas went down.

"Get in the cars and run! We're outmatched!" Cesar said as the remaining members scrambled.

He turned to the Johnson Brothers and Packie. "You too! We can't take them all on! Take Kendl with you."

"Alright," CJ said as they took Kendl by the arm and led her back to the Greenwood.

This time, CJ slid into the driver's seat, with Sweet and Kendl in the back and Packie riding shotgun, armed with his SMG. They sped off, Packie picking off three Ballas from the window, and they looked back to make sure Cesar got away. He had made it to his car, but halfway down the road, the engine stalled.

"Cesar!" Kendl screamed.

"We can't do anything for him now. It's either him, or us," Packie said.

Kendl watched as a Ballas car slammed into Cesar's already damaged car. It slammed into a wall and rolled, landing upside-down. Oil and gasoline were leaking, and it was obvious to anyone what would happen next. A Balla pulled the trigger and when the bullet hit the gas tank the car blew up. Kendl screamed as they heard the mangled screams of Cesar Vialpando.

* * *

Everyone stayed silent until they reached Ganton. But despite it being their territory, they knew they were no safer there than they were anywhere in Los Santos. They were being hunted, like dogs, and anyone who got too close would get hurt.

"It's not safe here no more. We have to head somewhere else," Sweet said.

"We could head to San Fierro, hide out with a guy I know," CJ suggested.

"And while we're there, I'll hunt down Jerome, and I'll make him pay for what he did," Packie said.

* * *

That afternoon, Packie, CJ, and Sweet were preparing to leave for San Fierro. They had packed the essentials (food, cash, and weapons) and were ready to go. All got into the Greenwood parked out front. CJ slid into the driver's seat, while Packie took the passenger's side seat, armed with a Micro-SMG. Sweet and Kendl sat in the back, Sweet armed with a regular SMG, and Kendl trying to stay hidden while she moped about Cesar's death.

"Get going, CJ!" Sweet ordered as they set out from the Johnson House.

CJ sped down the road, both Sweet and Packie leaning out of their windows, guns ready. As they passed out of the cul-de-sac, they saw three cars over the bridge nearby. The three Voodoos, manned each by a group of Ballas, sped after Packie and the Johnsons.

Packie stuck his body out the window and turned to the Voodoos, firing round off with his SMG. The Ballas in front expertly dodged the bullets, but one managed to puncture the front left tire, leaving it on a rim, but it still had three good tires.

"Hey, Yankee, I got a present for you," Sweet said, reaching into the floorboard of the car, revealing a box of grenades. "Emmet hooked me and CJ up with some new toys."

"These ain't no child's toys, man," Packie said as he ripped the cap off of a grenade before throwing it back.

The grenade smashed into the window of the lead Voodoo, and in a few seconds, it blew up, killing all in it. The car's flaming remains flipped into the air and landed in the side of the road.

"Now don't blow us up now, Yankee!" CJ said.

"But it sounds like so much fun!" Packie said sarcastically.

"Both of you shut up! We still got 2 cars left to take care of!" Sweet said.

CJ turned down a street into El Corona, with the two Voodoos still following. However, as they passed the Liquor Mart, several Glendales pulled out and surrounded the Voodoos. Each was filled with Mexicans. Friends of Cesar.

"This is for Cesar, you puta!" one Mexican shouted, causing all of them to fire rapidly at the Voodoos.

In seconds, both cars were riddled with bullets, and both blew up. CJ and the Aztecas all pulled to the side of the road and got out.

"Thanks for the help, man," CJ said to the Aztecas' lieutenant.

"You boys were loyal and stood by us even back when those Ballas tried to take over," the lieutenant said. "We owed you one. If you need any help, give us a call."

"Will do," Sweet said. Sweet and the lieutenant shook hands, and the Aztecas got into their cars and drove away.

CJ, Sweet, Packie, and Kendl got into Sweet's car and started down the road, with CJ driving again.

"The safehouse we're heading to is in Paradiso," CJ said.

"What are we going to do when we get there?" Packie asked.

"The boy whose letting us borrow his pad is going to give us some work," CJ said.

"Who is he?" Packie asked.

"Another Yankee," CJ said, ending the conversation.

* * *

CJ parked the car in front of a large white building complex. The group left the car and entered the building, finding a living room with modest accommodations. A dart board was hung to the wall beside a couch, and a TV sat on a small table across from it. A hall led into a three different bedrooms, and coming out of that hallway was a portly man a blue t-shirt beneath a grey jacket, with a pair of blue jeans.

"Packie!" the man said. "Long time no see! It's been a while since we last worked together!"

"Stevie? What are you doing in San Fierro?" Packie asked.

"I go where the money is," Stevie said. "And right now, people in the black market are interested in cars from around here."

"Thanks for letting us stay here, Stevie. If you need any work done, just give me a call," Packie said.

"I'll hold you to that," Stevie said as he walked out. "Stop by my garage in Doherty. We'll talk more there."

"Alright, let's get some sleep. It's been a long day," Sweet said.

Kendl, Sweet, and CJ each took one of the bedrooms, while Packie decided to take the couch. But Packie noticed that as he fell asleep, Sweet was leaving the safehouse.

* * *

Alright, it took me a while, but I finally came out with a new chapter. So to recap, Cesar's dead and the Johnsons (and Packie) are staying with an old Liberty City resident, Stevie.

**Doherty Garage:** FYI, in this story, Stevie has taken over the Doherty Garage. This will be explained in the next chapter, where Stevie gives Packie his first "Mission" (Which will be car-themed of course).

**Stevie: **Stevie appears in GTA IV as a contact of Brucie, for whom Niko steals cars after a certain point in the storyline, receiving his orders via text message. A man named Stevie also appears with the McReary Family when kidnapping Gracie Ancelotti, taking her car. In my story though, they are the same person, and he stole the Feltzer to sell it on the black market.


End file.
